


as high as the flames will rise

by Hymn



Category: GetBackers
Genre: Anime, M/M, Post-Fire, Pre-Series, back story fic, i dunno guys i dunnoooooo, lemme know if i missed any tags, pre-blindess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-09
Updated: 2007-04-09
Packaged: 2019-03-31 22:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hymn/pseuds/Hymn
Summary: It’s a difficult journey, but worth it.





	as high as the flames will rise

**Author's Note:**

> springkink prompt: kazuki/juubei, hurt/comfort - “and the fire and the rose are one”

Juubei is used to making patient use of his clan’s craft, when it comes to Kazuki. 

For all that he is possibly the most graceful, beautiful being that Juubei has ever seen, he is slightly ridiculous, too, and reckless. When Juubei walks through the meadow to meet Kazuki, and sees him, kimono hiked up around his thighs to an indecent degree, happily perched on a branch in an old tree, gazing out absently into the distance, he nearly has a heart attack.

When Juubei’s shout of alarm causes Kazuki to startle, slide, and tumble down, Juubei is instantly there to catch him, and keep the ankle down to swollen, as opposed to broken. Easily fixed, with a few sharp jabs of shining white needles. And when Juubei’s face finally eases from its hard mask of concern and concentration, and he looks up at Kazuki’s tender, slightly embarrassed face, Juubei almost has _another_ heart attack.

But Juubei was born for Kazuki, and Kazuki is his entire world, now, his life, so what Kazuki wants to touch is his to touch, and if Kazuki needs to feel strong, sometimes, to feel more than delicate and protected – even despite the vicious, dangerous power of his threads – then Juubei has no problems complying. It is natural to have Kazuki’s slender, but determined hand press against his chest, press him down onto his back. Natural to arch and spread and give himself over to Kazuki and Kazuki’s needs and wants and desire. 

The greatest pleasure Juubei knows is to bring Kazuki pleasure.

*

Sometimes Juubei thinks maybe it’s easier for him, than it is for Kazuki. He watches the slender boy coax and caress his threads, gentle even when they slice into his skin and leave him bleeding. He notices the way that Kazuki sometimes tugs on his kimono with a hidden look; a look that doesn’t dare to fully form, because he has things that he must do to be what he must be, and he will do anything to have the grace and elegance needed to carry on his clan’s name. Aches for him, too, when Kazuki presses him desperately against the wall, hands tight around his wrists, or pushes him down onto his knees with a soft, harsh plea in his mouth.

It’s easier for Juubei. He was born for only one purpose, and that purpose is Kazuki. His entire world could go up in flames, smoldering and blackened and ruined, and so long as Juubei still has the young threadmaster at his side, safe, Juubei will be fine.

*

Perhaps, despite what the dark cynic in his mind wanted to say, it wasn’t so ironical as tragic that it in fact came to pass, just so.

*

There is one thing in Juubei’s world that cannot be compromised, cannot be replaced: the boy barely keeping pace with him, slim and trembling in his grasp, tripping along in the confines of his pretty kimono. When Juubei looks back to glance at him, to reassure himself that his Kazuki is still there, he sees fire reflected in wide brown eyes, and the memory of his mother’s voice mingled with flame settled dark around the pupil.

He has no thought for his own family, his own past, just Kazuki’s, just the heart and life of the person he has sworn himself to, sworn to protect. But there’s a pain in Kazuki’s eyes that looks like, even when it fades, will still leave a bitter stain; one that Juubei couldn’t protect him from, and won’t be able to heal him from. 

Juubei is the worst bodyguard and the worst doctor that the Kakei clan has ever born, and the knowledge breaks his heart.

In the red- and orange-lit darkness, as they run, Juubei turns his expression from Kazuki, so that Kazuki does not see his tears, and says, “I will get stronger. I couldn’t protect you, but I’ll learn how. I will!”

Juubei listens, but hears only the distant roar of flames; when Kazuki gradually twists his sweaty hand in Juubei’s grip, and laces their fingers together, holding to his hand tightly, Juubei feels like he’s been delivered, and it is suddenly much easier to keep his focus on the path before them. Now that he knows he still has Kazuki there, with him, he can see a future for them both, no matter how indistinct.

*

They seek shelter where they can, and eat when they can, and sleep in shifts. It would almost be impossible to do it, except for that last fact; it is Juubei and Kazuki’s turn to sleep, and Sakura has watch, up on the roof of the warehouse they’re hiding in, and this minimizes the chance of discovery enough that merely going to sleep is a ridiculous notion, one quickly discarded.

Kazuki’s mouth is hot and hard against Juubei’s, tongue wet and teeth sharp against his. The floor is hard against his back, and Kazuki’s hips are thin where Juubei’s hands grip him, grasping at the fabric of his clothing, trying to wriggle beneath, to smooth, heated skin.

It’s quicker, now, dirtier, more impersonal. Juubei doesn’t hate it, because he can’t hate anything about Kazuki, but it’s distressing, nonetheless. He misses lazy afternoons of foreplay, of tender lovemaking. But Kazuki needs this, needs to drink down the sound of Juubei’s moans, to be steady in control of the pace and the friction and know that Juubei is there with him, against him, under him, needing him.

It’s an easy thing to give; Juubei will always need him.

*

The Fortress is not, in any way, shape, or form, what Juubei was expecting when he made vague guesses to their future, however. It is harsh and jagged, and broken. Cold and wretched, and as far from their past as they can possibly get. Juubei hates taking his sister into this place, strong as she is, and hates taking Kazuki there, even more. 

“I don’t know about this,” he says. “Kazuki, this is no place for the heir of-”

“Enough,” Kazuki interrupts. There is a new expression to him, now, that hadn’t been there before; where there used to laughter and determination tinged occasionally with frustration, there is a dark, empty anger, a calculating, vengeful, hungry thing. Juubei looks and sees it and knows that it will swallow him whole, if he lets it. 

Juubei stops speaking, and narrows his eyes. 

“This is a perfect place. You wanted to get stronger, didn’t you?”

“Well. Yes.” Juubei frowns, shifts, and doesn’t look at his quiet sister. “To protect you. I can’t protect you here.” He’s being backed into a corner. He knows it, but it’s Kazuki, so it really hardly matters; he likes being backed into corners, where Kazuki is concerned. 

Kazuki smiles, beautiful in the new clothes he’s wearing. No longer a girl’s kimono, it’s sharper, edgier, but still subtly beautiful, elegant in all the right ways. “Juubei. What better way to learn to protect me than through experience? Think of it as on the job training. Besides,” he tosses a look that’s dark, and holds only a shadow of the half-tender, half-challenging look it once would have brimmed with. 

“I won’t allow myself to be defenseless.”

“You _aren’t_ -”

“You ready, Sakura?” Kazuki turns from Juubei, smiling sweet and innocent and empty at Juubei’s sister, and Juubei grits his teeth, angry because he’s worried and scared and uncertain in his own abilities. He follows Kazuki in anyway, because there was never any question about that, at least; but he can’t help the fact that his fingers keep twitching and dancing over his needles, ready to let them fly.

*

Despite Juubei’s blush, and the way that Kazuki had gone stiff backed and mortified, Juubei didn’t regret sticking that sleazy ass full of needles. He shouldn’t have tried to touch Kazuki, period. 

Later, when the story began the reputation they needed to survive in the Limitless Fortress, when it began the foundation of what would become the legendary gang, Elegance, Juubei feels nothing less than fully justified.

*

Life in the Limitless Fortress is close to impossible, and not at all comfortable. It does exactly what Kazuki wanted, though: it leaves him no room to deal with his grief and guilt, not place to go other than forward, lest he be left behind; it gives him filth, and Kazuki builds strength up in himself day by day when he finds the beauty in it, his threads singing on the wind, shining like whispers in the gray light. 

He’s not healing, exactly, but he’s tougher, better able to bear the wound. Juubei follows beside him, waiting patiently to catch him when he falls, to watch his back when he forgets, to tend the cuts and gashes that he won’t bend beneath. When it happens, though, it’s not Juubei who does it, but Amano Ginji who shocks more life and humanity into Kazuki than Juubei had seen in far too long. 

To be honest, Juubei’s not sure if he’s more thankful or resentful that it was some lightning haired kid who did it, rather than him, but in the end he’s too busy worrying over Kazuki to think about much else. Kazuki, whose dead mask has been blown wide open, shaken apart, to reveal the carnage behind the sharp, too-beautiful face that it had become. 

Kazuki falling apart is a beautiful thing, just like everything else about him, and though Juubei would like best to stop and watch and worship the tears that stain his delicate face, the misery and heartbreak and wonder that crumples him into a defenseless ball, that send his bells trembling and shaking, he can’t. He picks up his slim and glorious Kazuki, and holds him tight in his arms, and he runs. The Limitless Fortress is huge, and full of horrible things, but there are plenty of empty places to go; the people tend to run in packs, close together.

It’s dark and echoing, and Juubei feels too exposed, but it’s the best that he can find. He’s more concerned with holding Kazuki, anyway, holding him tight and letting him break down against his chest, never loud, just quiet, wrenching sobs that end on wet gasps. 

He’s crying for his mother, for his clan, for the glory that will never be his; he cries so much that Juubei wonders that it couldn’t have put out an entire fire itself.

He hopes it will be enough to wash away the burns of one, at least.

*

Kazuki calms eventually, and then he sits there, his legs tucked demurely under him, head bowed and hands folded one over the other, and Juubei can almost imagine him in a kimono, again. 

Then he looks up, and his gaze is bright, and raw, and harder and more real than it ever could have been before the fire forged him into this new being, before the lightning struck him straight down the middle and ripped apart the soot-stained casing. He smiles at Juubei, sweet and tender and darkly old, reaches forward to caress Juubei’s cheek.

In the dark and cold-gray world they find themselves in, it is a perfect moment in Juubei’s life, and it is made all the more perfect when Kazuki, soft and tender, says, “Thank you for protecting me.”

“Ah,” Juubei smiles, and blushes, his heart pounding. “Of course. It’s what I was born for.”

Kazuki laughs, softly, drawing his hand away, and tilting his head so that his bells shift and chime softly. He’s like an angel, a dangerous, compelling, wonderful angel. “Well, at least I can make sure your job is never boring, hm?”

Juubei wishes he could let Kazuki laugh it off, but he can’t, though it’d be simpler. He likes that soft smile on Kazuki’s face, but he’s completely earnest when he says, “You’re not my job, Kazuki. You’re my life.”

For a long moment, Kazuki looks at him, and it’s the closest that Juubei has felt to him ever since their old world burned down, and they made a niche in this new one. There’s life and determination and hope in those brown eyes now, and Juubei feeds off of it. 

He hadn’t even realized how empty he’d felt, how hollow and frightened until now, when he sees Kazuki stronger and brilliant before him. It’s a weight off of his shoulders, and when Kazuki leans forward, presses that strong hand against his chest with inexorable force and pushes him down onto his back, he moans, softly, needy and hungry and too happy for words.

“I know,” Kazuki whispers against his jaw, leaning over him and stroking his hand down, down. “I know, Juubei, I know.”

They go slow that night, slow and testing and sweet, all new, harsh, hard angles sliding gently and teasingly against each other. When the sun rises, it casts the light in a heavy gray, a somber, melancholy look that cannot touch or come near to matching their brilliance. 

It took Kazuki a long time to make it through the choking hold of the fire, but he has, a little singed, but whole, and Juubei is there, just as he has been since the beginning, beside him.


End file.
